Magically Awkward
by Plague's Vengeance
Summary: "Life is full of awkward moments. Like answering the door in your Hello Kitty underwear when your seventeen, or walking in on your Mom making out with a best friend's father, or the one time you magically turned a customer into a frog, or even finding a hot naked guy in your backyard one morning. Of course, the most awkward moment is when you realize you love that hot naked idiot."
1. Chapter 1: Awkward First Meetings

**DISCLAIMER: While I would never want to claim ownership of the Twilight series, I still have to put this pesky little disclaimer up to satisfy certain people. I do NOT own anything you may recognize. That includes, but is not limited to, Jacob Black and the rest of the La Push wolf pack, the Cullens or any other vampire assosciated with the Twilight franchise (i.e. the Denali Clan, the Volturi, ect.). The OCs that appear in this story ARE mine and, while I won't necessarily be able to legally do anything if you steal them, I'd be very much appreciative if you didn't. I'd really hate to bust out the Big Black Book of Curses. Annnnd that's the end of this disclaimer. Enjoy this Magically Awkward story. Also have a Happy 4th of July for those that celebrate it. **

**Rated T for language, sexual innuendos and humor, and extreme teenage awkwardness. You have been forewarned. **

**Beta'd by Molly Grace 16**

* * *

When Mo Tanner woke up at five in the morning to let the small horse she referred to as a dog and her mother's demonic dustbunny out back to do their business, the last thing she expected was to see a naked person sprawled out on the ground near the treeline that formed a back fence for her backyard. She stood on the back porch, completely frozen, and gawked. She was pretty sure she'd need a crane to pick her jaw up off the ground and an ophthalmologist to return her eyes to their normal size.

The incessant and high-pitched yipping of her mother's teacup Pomeranian, Fezzik, finally snapped Mo out of her daze and her eyes, if possible, widened even more.

"No, don't pee on the strange naked person, you stupid satanic ball of fur!"

She leapt off the wraparound porch, her barefeet slipping slightly on the dew-slick grass as she ran towards the fluff ball. Unfortunately, Mo had the coordination of a dumb, blind baby duck. Her ankles somehow tangled together and she crashed to the ground with a yelp, sliding a few inches across the moist grass.

Unperturbed by his owner's graceless offspring, Fezzik lifted one furry hind leg and proceeded to pee on the human that had dared invade his territory. Mo groaned and hung her head, bumping it a few times against the ground. Her own dog, a Newfoundland that stood at the mindboggling height of forty inches at the shoulder and had the dubious name of Sprite, meandered towards the young woman and snuffed at her hair curiously.

Mo lifted her head and blew a strand of ditch-water blonde hair out of her eyes, giving the beast of a canine the stink eye. "And where were you when that midget monster was debasing the naked dude in the yard, huh?"

Sprite sat down heavily on his haunches and cocked his head, his pink tongue lolling out of his mouth, and didn't answer. Mo huffed. Typical.

"Where is the micro-demon anyway?" The young woman muttered as she pushed herself to her feet and looked around for the black Pomeranian. She spotted the little beast a few feet away, happily impersonating a hose and spraying the nearby trees. Apparently he was no longer interested in the unconscious and clothesless interloper now that he'd established his supreme dominance over him via urination. Once that was finished, he pranced passed said interloper, Mo, and Sprite, heading back towards the porch and into the house through the open backdoor.

Shaking her head, Mo carefully shuffled across the last few feet of grass that laid between her and her yard's unexpected guest, Sprite lumbering after her. As soon as she was a foot away, she blanched then flushed bright red and spun around, clapping her hands over her eyes. The hope that her peculiar guest was at least wearing underwear was completely dashed, as were any disillusions she had about the anatomy of the male species.

"Alright, so he's naked as a jaybird. That's okay, you can deal with it." Mo muttered to herself and took a several deep breaths. She turned back towards the nude guy and immediately did an about-face a moment later. "Nope, nevermind, can't do it. Not. Bloody. Happening."

Beside her, Sprite whined and licked her hand encouragingly. Well, at least she had the dog's support. Mentally preparing herself as best she could, Mo did a complete one-eighty and cringed, a blush working its way up her chest to the tips of her ears.

The guy was still unconscious and Mo thanked the universe for small favors as she took a moment to scrutinize him. Seeing as how he was sprawled out on his back, it wasn't that hard to see everything, but she kept her eyes on his face for anyway. She didn't need to impersonate a ridiculous anime character and knock herself out with nasal hemorrhage.

From what she could tell, he would be freakishly tall if he was upright and despite being covered in dirt and other unidentifiable things, he had beautiful russet skin. It seemed a little pallid to Mo but it could have been the early morning light. His features were handsome with high cheekbones, deep set eyes of an unknown color and thick crow-black hair, cut short and shaggy, his mouth slightly wide with full lips, and his chin had a vague roundness to it.

His body suggested that he was in his early to mid-twenties, thick, toned, and ridiculously muscular. His biceps alone were as thick as one of Mo's thighs. And as the girl who'd been known as 'Thunder Thighs Tanner' for most of high school, that was nothing to sneeze at. Mo shook those perturbing thoughts from her head and returned to her inspection. If it wasn't for the slight roundness of his chin and the fact that his shoulders, while ridiculously broad, lacked the definition of a man fully grown she'd say he was definitely anywhere from twenty-three to twenty-five.

Crouching on her heels beside the unconscious man, Mo glanced towards his feet, making sure to avoid staring at the undeniable evidence of his manliness. His feet were filthy, grass-stained and covered in mud, just like the rest of him. He looked like he'd spent the past week roughing it in the forest. She looked over at Sprite and said as much to the large canine. He licked her cheek in reply, leaving a wet streak of dog spit behind to show his adoration. Thanks, big guy, love you too.

Mo wiped the dog slobber from her face with the bottom of the oversized _Missoula Maulers_ sweatshirt that had once belonged to her father. She took a moment to look at the unconscious guy then reached out and poked his cheek with a long finger. No reaction. Huh.

"Hey." She said loudly and she poked his face again. "Hey, Naked Guy, wake up."

Still no reaction. Not even a twitch. Well alrighty then, time to take drastic measures it seemed.

Mo turned towards Sprite and pointed towards the treeline a few feet away, "Stick."

The Newfoundland lumbered to his feet, shambled over to the trees, picked up a random stick off the ground with his mouth, shambled back over, and dropped the stick in front of Mo. He sat beside her again and she patted his massive head.

"Good boy."

Mo picked up the stick and looked it over critically. About as long as her forearm, as thick as her wrist and sprouting several leaves and thin twigs, it was more of a small branch really. One end looked as if it had been broken off whatever tree it had been attached to while the other was narrow and had a blunted tip. Perfect.

She looked back at Naked Guy, "Alright, I'm going to poke you with this stick, so don't kill me if you wake up."

She stared at him hopefully then sighed when he remained studiously unresponsive. Guess she got to poke him with a stick. Yay. She just hoped he didn't suddenly wake up and attack her like a grizzly.

"Don't say I didn't warn you." She told the guy then poked his cheek with the narrow end, flinching back and closing her eyes in preparation.

A second passed. Five. Ten. Twenty. Well, if he was gonna attack her, he'd have done it by now.

Mo opened her eyes slowly and peered at the man. Nothing. Not even a twitch. Damn. Wait, maybe he was dead?

She rocked back on her heels and eyed him worriedly, sighing in relief when she saw the minute rise and fall of his broad chest. Not dead, thank God. Now she just had to figure out what the hell to do with him.

"What does one do with a random, strange naked man in one's yard?" Mo wondered aloud with a thoughtful frown. She addressed Sprite. "Maybe I should get Mom? Wait, no, he's fit _and_ naked, she might actually have an apoplexy if she saw this dude. Damn, what to do, what to do?"

The dog just looked at her with his pink tongue hanging out of his mouth and a dopey expression on his mug. Mo shook her head, "No, I am not going to use magic, I might accidently blow him up. You are completely useless, you know that? Oh hey, maybe I could get dad's old mechanics creeper? Nah, that wouldn't work. This guy's freaking huge. He probably outweighs your big furry butt."

Sprite barked, the noise deep and loud in the early morning silence. Apparently, he took offense to her comment about his backside. A dog with body issues. Oy.

"_Shhh_, seriously dude? Are you trying to wake up the guests? Sorry I insulted your butt, but you have to admit it puts Kim Kardashian's to shame."

"Who are you talking to?"

"I'm talking to you, Sprite, who do you thin-" Wait a second, Sprite can't talk, no matter how often she tried to teach him. Realization hit Mo like a ton of bricks. There was only one other person in the yard with her. Guess the naked Sleeping Beauty impersonator had decided to stop acting and he heard her talking to her dog. Awesome, just freaking awesome. Closing her eyes tightly, she slowly turned her head towards the unconscious naked guy.

Mo opened her eyes and fell onto her butt gracelessly, her mind screeching to a completely halt while the world disappeared around her until it was just her and the man sprawled out in front of her. Tired and impossibly sad dark brown eyes stared back her from a criminal handsome face. Those dark eyes widened and he stared up at her with a thunderstruck expression. She gawked back at him, pretty sure her mouth was hanging open in a highly unattractive manner, but lacking the cognitive ability to do anything about it.

The guy lifted his arm and his long, thick fingers brushed against her cheek gently, as if she was made of porcelain. Mo just sat beside him, utterly frozen, and stared at him with wide eyes. A warm feeling blossomed in her chest and flowed through her veins until she felt it from the top of her head and all the way down to her toes.

"Beautiful..." He mumbled, stunning the young woman even further.

Then his eyes rolled up into the back of his head and he went completely limp. Mo gaped at his unconscious form for several seconds then threw her hands in the air and tilted her head back, glaring accusingly up at the morning sky.

"Oh come on! Are you freaking_ serious?! _Your humor_ still_ sucks!"

* * *

After cursing at the sky for a good ten minutes, Mo turned back towards the unconscious guy on her lawn and gave him the evil eye. She didn't care if he made her feel all warm and fuzzy for a few moments, he was seriously ruining her morning. She paced beside the comatose and naked idiot, running her hands through her blonde hair irritably.

"All I had to do was open the backdoor and let the dogs out, but noooo, I had to walk out onto the porch to enjoy the morning air." Ha! Last time she'd ever do that ever again.

Sprite whined and butted his head against her side. Mo stopped mumbling to herself and glanced down at him questioningly. Now that he had her attention, the massive Newfoundland trotted over to the unconscious guy and sat down beside him. He bit at the air a couple times then let his tongue hang out of his mouth, giving her a doggy smile.

"No, I already told you that I was not using magic to move him. Need I remind you of the Incident, Sprite?"

The Newfoundland dog looked towards the large Queen Anne-style Victorian house and whined. Mo gave him the stink eye, "I am _not_ bringing my mother into this. Do you know what will happen if she sees..." She flapped her hand towards the naked guy, "_That?_"

Sprite laid down and rested his head on his massive front paws. He looked at her then at the house then back at her, staring at her with sad, pleading eyes. Great, the puppy eyes, now she felt like a ass for snapping at him.

Mo closed her eyes, pinched the bridge of nose, and counted to ten in her head. There had to be a way to get the nude idiot into the house without getting her mother involved. Sadly, Mo was unable to think of anything. She sighed and hung her head in defeat.

"Goddamn it."

* * *

"Honestly dear, I don't know why you didn't get me sooner."

Beautiful, sophisticated, elegance-personified, and of course magically-inclined Mary-Elizabeth Tanner was everything her daughter was not. Despite being in her forties, her face was flawless with only faint laugh lines around her stunning green eyes and pouty lips. To top it off, she was tall with a killer body, slender but with curves in all the right places, and rich auburn hair that cascaded down her back in a thick wave all the way to her narrow waist and complimented her honey-pale skin.

Standing in a sweatshirt several sizes too big and sweatpants, Mo would have felt frumpy standing next to her, but she did not envy her mother's good looks. No, she was perfectly content with her appearance. Sure, her features were a little mismatched, but she thought her pin-straight, ditch-water blonde hair complimented her angular face well enough with its almond-shaped, slightly elongated, murky hazel eyes and wide, full mouth that wasn't pouty by _any_ stretch of the imagination. And even though she was fuller-figured than most girls wanted to be nowadays, she liked her body.

No, she didn't envy her mother's perfectly good looks, but she did envy her magical abilities. Mary-Elizabeth was the best witch in the Western States. Where as Mo was lucky if she was able to cast a simple scrying spell without blowing something up. Too much of her father's blood in her veins according to her hag of a grandmother.

Shaking her head, Mo crossed her arms and gave her mother a droll look. "Sorry, Ma, I thought I'd spare you the heart attack you almost had when you saw Naked Guy."

Mary-Elizabeth clucked her tongue disapprovingly, "I did not almost have a heart attack."

"You and your delicate English rose sensibilities almost took a nosedive to kiss the grass."

"He just startled me is all." Mary-Elizabeth retorted indignantly, "When you said there was a unconscious, naked man in the backyard, I wasn't expecting him to be so-so..."

Drop dead sexy. Smoking hot. Deliciously tempting? Mo didn't voice any of those thoughts and simply deadpanned, "Naked?"

"Attractive." The older witch flicked her wrist towards the naked guy still sprawled out on the ground and Mo watched as wispy, pale gold light danced from her fingertips towards the guy and folded around him like a net of spun sunlight. A second later, the light darkened and condensed, until the guy was no longer visible, then there was a soft pop and he and the light disappeared. "There. Good thing we have several spare rooms or else we'd be in quite the pickle. He's in room fourteen."

Mo stared at the space where the guy used to be enviously. Now why couldn't she do that? Every time she attempted a translocation spell, the things she was translocating were shredded into little bits. It was a good thing she'd never done it on a living creature. The only thing that sucked worse than being a magical dud, was being a magical dud with unpredictable magic.

"Come along now, dear heart." Mary-Elizabeth called out as she glided back towards the house, her robe twirling around her legs. "We can find some clothes to fit our newest guest after we finish with breakfast. You know how Mr. Roark gets when he doesn't get breakfast on time. I'll send Fillia to clean him up."

Mo made a face and looked down at Sprite sitting beside her, "Heaven forbid the troll doesn't get fed."

Sprite barked, licked her hand, and proceeded to lick his own butt. He was a dog of simple pleasures. At least he wasn't demonstrating his ability to pee and vomit at the same time. Mo sighed and walked towards the house.

* * *

Mo carefully placed a plate full of very rare _cervelle de veau _and scrambled eggs on the large dining table, flashing an insincere smile at the large, surly-looking man sitting there. "Breakfast, Mr. Roark, scrambled eggs and _cervelle de veau_, extra rare. Just the way you like it. And here's your spiced marrow." She placed a glass of thick, muddy liquid on the table and stepped back.

The troll grunted and picked up his fork, his shovel-sized hand dwarfing the utensil. Mo made a face and walked through the swinging door into the kitchen. Her mother, dressed in a peasant skirt and blouse with a floral print half-apron tied around her slender waist, stood at the large range cooker. Fezzik, the demonic little black ball of fur curled up in his dog bed beside the stove, malicious amber eyes watching Mo intently. The older witch glanced over her shoulder at her daughter and gestured towards a wooden tray with a matte-glass covered plate, teapot, and teacup on it.

"Missus Amberlain will be taking her breakfast in her room this morning."

"Shocker." Mo mumbled, picked up the tray, and headed towards the servant's staircase at the back of the kitchen.

"Be kind, my dove." Mary-Elizabeth reprimanded lightly and she flipped a pancake. "And don't roll your eyes at me."

Mo winced, hunched her shoulders slightly, and hurried up the staircase with the breakfast tray. She swore that woman had eyes on the back of her head. Bypassing the second floor, Mo carefully balanced the tray in one hand and opened the door to the third floor hallway, nudging it closed with her foot.

She shuffled towards the last door of the hall and, balancing the tray in one hand again, knocked on the door marked with an ornate number six.

"Missus Amberlain? Breakfast."

The heavy door creaked open and Mo stepped into the dim room.

"Good morning, Missus Amberlain." Mo greeted as she padded across the room on quite feet and placed the wooden tray on the small table near the large window, uncovering the plate and setting the glass lid to the side. She stepped to the side and waited quietly.

Glowing yellow eyes sparked from where the bed was position and Mo suppressed as shudder as the elderly banshee woman slipped from the opulent bed and floated towards the table. Missus Amberlain flashed deepwater teeth at the young woman and sat down at the table.

"Begone." The banshee intoned, her voice like the deep tolling of a funeral bell.

Mo beat a hasty retreat out of the room, closing the door behind her softly. Banshees, ugh.

"Miss?"

The young witch looked towards the soft, tinkling voice and smiled. Fillia, the resident brownie, peered up at her with disproportionately large brown eyes. "What's up, Fillia?"

Stand at only three to four feet tall, brownies were extremely gentle folk, often find in older houses and the occasional inn, bed and breakfast, or old hotel. They enjoyed aiding house owners or innkeepers, such as Mo and her mother, with menial tasks around the house for small gifts of food, such as porridge and honey. Of course, despite their demure nature, brownies packed a magical wallop equivalent to a getting hit by a semi-truck when they were upset or their homes were being threatened.

And Fillia was no exception. At three and a half feet tall, the she-brownie had petite, child-like build, skin the color of walnut, huge round eyes the same shade as milk chocolate, and floppy ears. Now that Mo thought about, she sort of looked like a house elf from the _Harry Potter_ movies, only more fey-like. At least when her glamour was dropped. When it was up, she looked like a pleasant plump older woman in her late fifties to early sixties, like every child's favorite grandmother. Or like Nanny from Disney's _101 Dalmations_.

"Mistress asked me to give you these." The brownie stated demurely, holding up the stack of clothes that looked suspiciously like her father's.

Great, now she had to deal with Mystery Naked Guy. Fan-freaking-tastic. She rubbed her forehead irritably and took the clothes. "I'm grateful for your assistance, Fillia. I'll take these to his room."

Lesson one on the fae, never thank them directly. The wrong kind will take your thanks as an admission of obligation to them. Then you'll get stuck doing whatever they ask of you. Lesson two, being indebted to a fae is a very, very bad thing that should be avoided at all costs.

Fillia curtsied quickly then scampered off, leaving Mo alone in the hallway. Grumbling under her breath, the young witch stomped towards the main staircase at the other end of the hall and climbed up to the third floor, where Mystic Inn's newest guest resided.

* * *

Mo glared at the ornate gold number fourteen emblazoned on the wooden at the very end of the third floor hallway. Heavy thumps from behind her signalled the approach of Sprite, the oversized Newfoundland lumbered down from the fourth floor, hers and her mother's private quarters.

The shaggy white monster butted his large head against her side when he reached her, his fluffy tail wagging happily.

"I don't want to go in." She told him. He grunted and dragged his tongue up the leg of her jeans, leaving a damp stain behind. Mo grimaced. Greaaaat.

Sprite shuffled behind her and nudged her backside with his head, pushing her closer towards the door. "Alright, alright. I get it." Mo huffed and rolled her eyes. Even her familiar was working against her. Oy.

Taking a deep breath, Mo carefully turned brass knob, slowly opened the door, and stepped inside. Sprite lumbered after her and she closed the door behind his furry butt. She kept her back to the rest of the room, clutching the stack of her father's old clothes to her chest, and tried to breathe evenly.

"Okay, breath, you can do this. He just another guest. Doesn't matter if he's drop dead gorgeous and that you've seen him in his birthday suit. Wait, no, damn it, don't think about that. Urgh, whoever said it helped to picture people naked when you were had anxiety was a total moron." It didn't matter to her that that little piece of advice was usually given to people with stage fright or public speaking anxiety. The advice was still a steaming pile of horse poo.

"Oooh, he is delicious!"

Sprite growled and Mo sighed. Of course. What's a better way to make an already bad day worse? Add Casper the overly friendly homosexual ghost to the mix, that's what.

Mo tilted her head back and glared up at the ceiling accusingly, "Really, old man? Because my day just couldn't get _any_ worse, you had to toss Raphael into the mix?" Her father was laughing at her, she just knew it.

"Aw, that's hurts, babycakes." Raphael, Mystic Inn's resident poltergeist, drawled offendedly, raising one slender, long-fingered hand to his chest.

Mo sighed and turned to face him. In life, Raphael had been a slender man with skin the color of coffee with lots of cream and longish black hair. His features were refined and effeminate. He was all sharp cheekbones, aquiline nose, small mouth, and intense blue eyes. When you looked at him, you instantly thought of sex. And he knew it too.

Back in the seventies when he'd been alive, he moonlighted as a male prostitute, using the money he'd earned to feed his drug habit. But he wasn't an addict. No, he was what he called a 'recreational drug user'. Personally, Mo didn't see the difference, but she'd given up arguing with him over semantics awhile ago.

"Don't you have anything better to do than haunt me?" Mo demanded drily, stepping through the poltergeist towards the dresser at the back of the room, near the bed where the mystery guy was snoozing peacefully. Thankfully, Fillia had covered him with the blankets so his nakedness wasn't blatantly on display. Sprite growled once more time at Raphael, just in case the poltergeist didn't get the message, then he lumbered towards the bathroom and flopped down on the cool tile.

Raphael gave the dog a dirty look, turned towards Mo's back, scoffed loudly, cocked his hip, and propped his fist on it. On a lesser person, the expression on his face would have been classified as sneer, but he was much too pretty for such a countenance.

"I'm not haunting _you_, darling." His lips curled up into a lecherous smile and he leered at the naked guy in the bed, "I'm haunting that _fine_ piece of man-meat right there. Mmm, if only I wasn't dead. The things I could do to that body."

Okay, ew. Now she needed to bleach the lovely mental images those words invoked from her brain. Mo arranged the clothes on top of the dresser, her hands lingering on the folded red flannel shirt on top of the stack for second before she crossed her arms over her chest. Shaking her head, she turned back towards Raphael and frowned when she saw that he was not standing by the door anymore.

She glanced over at the unconscious guy to check if he was still asleep and her eyes widened. The stupid poltergeist was hovering over the unconscious dude, lifting the edge of the blanket to get a peek underneath.

"Pervert, get away from him!" Mo barked. She stormed over to the bed and raised her hand threateningly at the ghost, "I will exorcise your ass back to the attic if you don't drop that blanket."

Raphael scoffed, dropped the blanket, and floated over to her. He scoffed as she glared into his intense blue eyes, "Puh-lease, darling, you're the magical equivalent of the village idiot. You couldn't exorcise me if you wanted to."

Rub it in why don't you? Asshole. Mo scowled at him and moved her hand closer to his face, satisfaction surging through her when his eyes widened slightly.

"I may not be to actually exorcise you, but do you really want me to try? 'Cause it'll hurt like a bitch for you."

"Killjoy." Raphael sniffed and floated away from her, his arms crossed over his lean chest and a pout affixed to his feminine face. "It's not like I was trying to peek at you naked."

"You are a sick, perverted little ghost."

"Ahem, I prefer the term sexual deviant." The poltergeist snipped back sassily.

Ha! Sexual deviant, right, because that sounded _so_ much better than pervert. Mo turned her back on the poltergeist, threw her hands in the air, and looked up at the ceiling again in exasperation. "Why me?"

"Talking to your dog again?"

Mo squeaked and jerked her head around so fast, she was pretty sure she gave herself whiplash. Startled murky hazel eyes met tired dark brown and held. That was when she felt an icy grip on her ankle just before her leg was jerked out from under her and she fell back onto her butt with a loud thump. The faint sound of Raphael's distinctive hyena cackle filled her head and her face burned. One day, she swore to herself, she was going to exorcise that bastard straight to Hell. See how much he liked being the Devil's butt-buddy.

The guy had pushed himself into a sitting position and was leaning over the side of the bed, a concerned look on his face.

"Are you alright?"

She opened and closed her mouth in a remarkable impression of a fish out of water that was slowly suffocating. She blinked dumbly at him and pointed at the ceiling. "My dad."

Mo almost slapped herself at how stupid she sounded and she blushed brightly. He slowly turned his gaze away from her to look up at the ceiling. He looked back at her and raised his brows, his expression a strangely adorable mix of exhaustion, humor, and bemusement. "Oh-kay?"

"I mean, I was, you know, talking to him. Not my dog." She chuckled nervously as her blush got darker, "Not that I talk to my dog, because that would be, you know, totally crazy. And I'm not...Crazy that is."

The guy's eyebrows had steadily climbed his forehead as she continued to ramble, his dark brown eyes staring at her in amusement.

Mo trailed off and coughed into her fist, her face burning. Crap, this was awkward. Like really, really awkward. More awkward than the time the cute pizza guy saw her dancing in front of the sun room in a t-shirt, her underwear, and a pair of socks. Hell, it was more awkward than when he complimented her on her Batman panties.

Her blush deepened and traveled down her neck and spread across her chest. Oh God, why did she have to remember that? The guy was still staring at her, though his amused expression had melted into one of intense scrutiny that made her blush ten times worse.

Mo looked off to the side to avoid the guy's gaze and chewed on her bottom lip, trying desperately not to fidget and make herself seem like an even bigger moron. Silence stretched on for an uncomfortably long time as he continued to study, as if she was rare and intriguing plant that he'd just discovered. Mo found his gaze very disconcerting, it literally felt like his eyes were burning holes in the side of her head.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, she felt more than saw the guy look away from her to study the room he was in. Mo glanced around with him, feeling stupid for doing so, but doing it anyway.

The room was a little bigger than the average sized bedroom and was equipped with a decently sized ensuite bathroom. The carpet was plush, soft, and a lovely shade of chocolate brown that matched the cream colored walls perfectly. The bed took up most of the room, a queen-sized, four poster canopy bed made of solid oak with chocolate and cream bed coverings. A nightstand, dresser, round table with two chairs, and a short wardrobe, all made of polished oak, completed the room. The whole room had a Victorian, but homey feel to it.

"Where am I?"

Mo glanced at the guy when he spoke in his deep voice and and started when she saw he was staring intently at her again. Her mind blanked and unconsciously her eyes roved over his face, scrutinizing every detail. It really should be illegal to be that handsome.

He shifted slightly, sitting up a little straighter, and his chest puffed out slightly almost as if he was posturing for her.

_Oh. My. God._ She knew she was gawking, but she really couldn't help it. The blankets had pooled around his waist when he'd sat up and now what had to be the world's best chest was on full display, short circuiting the brains of all things female that happened to look at it.

Yes, she knew she'd already seen his bare chest earlier when he was sprawled out in the backyard with, quite literally, _everything_ on display, but during that time, she was desperately trying _not_ to stare at him. Now, though she couldn't seem to pull her eyes away. He apparently wasn't offended by her staring though, since his chest puffed out a little more the longer she looked. He also didn't seem to know or give two hoots that he was buck-ass nude underneath the blankets.

Sprite suddenly barked and leapt onto the bed, breaking the rising tension like a knife through soft butter. Praise the universe for tension breaking dogs the size of a small horse, a second longer and Mo wasn't sure what would have happened. And she squashed the small part of her that wanted to find out.

The guy grunted in surprise as a one hundred seventy-five pounds of white fluff landed on his legs. Mo ripped her eyes away and cleared her throat, ignoring the way her face had begun to burn again. Ah, so that's where her blush went, she thought she'd misplaced it.

Quickly getting to her feet, Mo pointed at the ground near her feet and addressed the Newfoundland dog sternly, "Down, Sprite."

Sprite whined and slunk his large body off the bed, shambling towards her and sitting at her feet. Mo placed one hand on his large head and looked towards the guy, careful to keep her gaze focused on a point above his shoulder.

"Sorry about that." She cleared her throat, desperately grasping at the last shreds of her professionalism and wrapping it around herself like a security blanket. "Um, right, where are you? You are-you are currently residing in guest room fourteen of the Mystic Inn, located ten miles outside the town of White Oak, in Montana." She ducked her head, scratched the back of her neck and shuffled her feet nervously, "I found you earlier this morning in the backyard. You were unconscious and, erm, naked..."

Spinning on her heel, Mo hurried over to the dresser, grabbed the clothes off the top, went back over to the bed and thrust the clothes at the guy, all without meeting his gaze.

"Here, these were my dad's. They should fit alright. Maybe. I mean, he was a big guy like you so, yeah..." Mo trailed off awkwardly.

"Thanks." The guy said and he took the clothes from her hands, his fingers brushing her and lingering.

_Hot_. Mo thought dazedly as his hands touched hers and she shivered slightly. Looking anywhere but at him, she yanked her hands away and shoved them into the back pockets of her jeans to keep from doing something stupid. Like touch him.

He chuckled lowly and Mo felt her breath catch at the sound. He laughed like a wolf, low, deep, and raspy. Mo flicked her gaze towards him and flushed for the millionth time in the past half hour when she saw the half smile he was sending her way.

Wow. He could charm a nun right out of her habit with that smile. As it stood, Mo felt her heart stutter and her knees weaken. It had to be hormones. That was the only explanation for the way she was reacting to this guy. She glanced at him again and nearly swooned. Oh yeah, definitely hormones. She needed to get the hell out of this room. Especially because it was painfully obvious that he was completely aware of the effect he had on her.

"Um, right, so, uh, welcome to Mystic Inn. Bathroom's through that door there. Obviously..." Mo gestured towards lamely towards the open door that clearly led to the bathroom with a hand which she immediately tucked back into her pocket. She rocked back on her heels and sucked her bottom lip into her mouth. "So, yeah, lunch is served at twelve in the dining room on the first floor if you're hungry... Right, okay," She pointed towards the bedroom door, "I'm just gonna, you know, go...Yeah."

Keeping her head bowed, Mo shuffled hurriedly towards the door, hoping to beat a hasty retreat before she suffocated in her own awkwardness. She was just about to twist the brass doorknob when the guy called out for her to wait. Closing her eyes tightly, she exhaled through her nose then turned to face him.

"Yes?"

With that half smile still tugging at his full mouth, he asked, "What's your name?"

Mo twitched and squashed the sudden urge to smack that smile off his face. Instead, she took a page out of Raphael's book and cocked a hip, putting some sass into her voice, "Why do you want to know?"

She nearly had a heart attack when his mouth stretched into a full blown smile, his white teeth a stark contrast against his russet-colored skin. Forget the nun, if he flashed that smile, he could have gotten the Virgin Mary on her back. It was boyish and charming and _waaaay _too tempting to anything with a pair of ovaries.

Mo was so distracted, she nearly missed what he said in reply.

"I think I deserve to know the name of my rescuer, don't you?"

Mo crossed her arms and shifted her weight from foot to foot as she reluctantly replied, "Mo Tanner."

"I'm Jacob. Jacob Black. It's nice to meet you, Mo."

* * *

**Author's Note: Yes, it's another Twilight story, I'm sorry, but the idea just sorta came to me and I had to write it out. This one is actually gonna be very different from my other Twilight stories, since the OFC is clearly part of the supernatural, which is gonna play a way larger role in this story than it did in **_**Always Sunny**_**,**_** Ironic**_**, or even the**_** Twilight**_** books themselves. I know there are quite a few other OC stories where the OFC is a witch or some other magical creature, but I think this one is unique in its approach. Jacob is also gonna be a little more accepting of the imprint than he was in **_**Always Sunny**_**, so I hope that isn't too OOC for you guys. This is also my first real attempt at writing in this particular style, so thoughts and opinions on it would be awesome.**

**Anyhooties, for those of you waiting on the next chapter of**_** Open Your Mind**_**, it's gonna take me a while to get that one up. I've got a little less than half of it written, but it started being difficult and is resisting all attempts at being completed right now. **

**PS - If you want to see a picture of Mo, her mother, the dogs, and her father, just check out my profile. I haven't found a picture for Raphael yet, but I'm working on it.**

**PSS - I hope no one is offended by my portrayal of Raphael, he's just the way he is. A total diva. **

**PSSS - White Oak is a fictional town of my creation located on the outskirts of Missoula County in Montana, it does not actually exist. **

**Terms to Know:**  
_Cervelle de veau_ - Calf brains, a traditional delicacy in Europe and Morocco. Usually served with tongue, but Mr. Roark prefers it with, well anything really. That's trolls for you.


	2. Chapter 2: It's Not Your Spidey Senses

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything you might find recognizable. OCs are mine though.**

**Warning: Some mildly crude humor and sexual innuendo ahead. Proceed at your own risk.**

**Beta'd by Molly Grace 16**

* * *

Large wolf paws pounded against the leaf-littered forest floor as he ran. Trees and bushes blurred together in a green haze. His body ached from days of running, but he didn't stop. Couldn't stop. He had to get away from...he wasn't even sure what he was running from anymore. If it was the pitying looks of his friends, his father's concern, the whispered words, the memories, or his heartache. Maybe he was just running from from himself. Most likely it was all of those things.

Jacob pushed himself harder, running faster. He ignored the protestations of his body telling him to slow down, to stop, to rest just for a few minutes. He _had_ to get away.

Abruptly he broke through the treeline. He tried to stop, but he was going too fast and ended up tripping over his front paws, tumbling to hard ground and skidding on his side across the forest floor and onto dewy grass. His back slammed into something that felt strangely hard yet soft at the same time and he grunted. An invisible fist clamped around his body and squeezed tightly, compressing his lungs and chest, as he was lifted off the ground several feet. His muzzle gaped open, but he couldn't hear the howl he thought he was releasing.

His body twisted and shudder against the invisible grip until, just as abruptly as it had appeared, it vanished. He crashed onto his back and stared up at the indigo colored sky, his mind too hazy with pain to even realize that he was looking through human eyes and not a wolf's.

Pain wracked his body, the likes of which he hadn't felt in some time, and blackness encroached on his vision. He felt strange, like was just an observer in his own body. He could feel it, but he couldn't control it. His mouth opened and closed as he gasped for breath. The darkness had nearly completely covered his vision by now, only a tiny pinprick of night sky visible.

_Bella_. He sighed soundless and went limp, darkness pulling him under and into its numbing embrace.

* * *

Jacob came to slowly, his mind foggy and feeling like a herd of elephants had trampled on his head. God, did he get hit by a truck or something? His body was terribly, terribly sore. It felt like he'd just gone ten rounds with an army of newborn vampires then wrestled a grizzly bear as an encore. His eyelids felt like they were being weighed down with lead and they just didn't want to open. He gave up trying after a few moments and just laid there, giving his other senses time to adjust to suddenly being conscious.

He could tell he was on his back, moist grass pressing into the bare skin. Oh, it looked like he was also in his human skin and that he was completely naked. Great. Seriously, what the hell happened to him? The last thing he remembered was running through some forest, trying to outrun his demons, then the next thing he knew, he was waking up with a killer hangover. Not that he'd ever had a hangover before, but he imagined what he was feeling was pretty damn close to the real thing.

He took a deep breath, inhaling the scents the permeated the air around him. He could smell the forest, the morning dew, the grass beneath his body, dirt, woodsmoke that most likely came from a fireplace or campfire nearby, and something else. Something that smelled vaguely of spices, sugar, and sweetness. Like a pie. An apple pie. Huh, weird. What the hell smelled like an apple pie in the middle of the forest?

His hearing, other than his eyesight, was the last of his senses to return to him and with it came the sound of a strange female voice, smoky and rich with a slight drawl to it. Pretty.

"-seriously dude? Are you trying to wake up the guests?"

Panic, irritation, and sarcasm coated the mystery's woman's voice like honey. Interesting. Jacob wondered who she was talking to and resolved to find out.

He forced his eyes to open and immediately grimaced as he was blinded by early morning light. He blinked rapidly a few times to clear the spots from his vision. What he really wanted to do was rub the grit from his eyes but his arms felt like lead.

By sheer force will, did he manage to turn his head towards the woman's voice. The sharp pain stabbing into his skull from the movement nearly caused him to blackout again, but he muscled through it.

It was worth it.

The woman was crouched beside him with her head turned away from him, so he couldn't see her face. But he could see the rest of her. Pin-straight hair an indeterminable shade between dark blonde and light brown fell over her shoulders to her elbows. Her shoulders were broad for a woman and she was clad in a sweatshirt several sizes too big that hid her upper body from his view. He could see her hands though, and they were tanned with callouses and faint scars, suggesting she worked with them often. She held a stick loosely in one of them. Gray sweatpants covered her legs, barefeet tipped with chipped orange nail polish on her toes peeking out from under the long hems.

She was still talking, the words finally penetrating the fog shrouding his mind.

"Sorry, insulted your butt but you have to admit it puts Kim Kardashian's to shame."

Okay, what? Just who the hell was this chick talking to? He decided to ask, despite his dry mouth and raw throat.

"Who are you talking to?"

"I'm talking to you, Sprite." She didn't turn towards him as she spoke, apparently not realizing it him that had spoken. "Who do you thin-"

She faltered and stiffened in surprise, Jacob watching her in tired amusement. Slowly, very slowly, she turned her head towards him and Jacob felt like he'd been sucker-punched in the gut.

Eyes the color of sunlit oak leaves peered out of an angular face and met his own. The world around him froze then shrank down to just him and mystery woman, everything else falling to the wayside. For several moments, he forgot everything, even his own name.

He stared at her like an idiot, drinking her features in like a man dying of thirst drinks in water. Almond shaped eyes, slightly elongated at the corners rested above cheekbones that were shape enough to cut and a straight nose with a slight bump on the bridge that suggested it had been broken before. Her full lips formed an _'o' _of surprise as she stared at him in shock.

"Beautiful." He murmured without thought and his body reacted without his mind's approval, his hand reaching out to gently graze her cheek with his fingertips, the action surprising him just as much as her.

Her eyes widened further and she gaped at him incredulous. Crap, he hadn't meant to say that outloud. Or touch her. Now he felt like a weirdo. A creepy weirdo that was also naked as a newborn. They were total strangers and she'd already seen him naked. And he'd been unconscious. Great, he couldn't have made a better first impression if he'd wanted to. She probably thought he belonged in a mental institution. Or had recently escaped from one. If he had the energy, he would have blushed. As it was the darkness was once again pulling him under and the last thing he saw was bright hazel eyes.

_I don't even know her name…_

* * *

The next time Jacob woke up, the first thing he noticed was that he was no longer lying in the dew-soaked grass, but on something soft and warm. Most likely a bed. He could feel smooth fabric against his skin and almost sighed when he realized that he was still naked, blankets presumably keeping him decent. The next thing he noticed was that his mind was less foggy, his head no longer throbbed like a marching band was having a blast inside his skull, and his body didn't feel like he'd been hit by a mack truck. That was good at least. He gotten too used to healing quickly and had forgotten how much pain was, well a pain.

The third thing he noticed was the familiar smell of apple pie. Mmm...nice. Warmth coursed through his body and he felt himself unexplainably relax as the smell invaded his nostrils. That scent triggered so many different emotions for him. Elation, longing, adoration, protectiveness to name a few. The smell also made him think of home, which was strange because he knew for a fact that he was _not_ home. He was pretty sure he was hundreds of miles away from home. But, he couldn't bring himself to care about that at the moment. He felt light, as if a burden he hadn't even realized he'd been carrying had suddenly been lifted from his shoulders.

There were other scents, of course, like the weird musky and slightly moldy smell that reminded him of dead leaves and damp earth. There was also the faint smell of dog fur, the smell of whatever detergent was used to wash the bed linens, and a sugary-citrusy smell that made him think of the lemon meringue pie Sue Clearwater made every Thanksgiving. It was a nice smell. Not as nice as the apple pie one, but still nice.

Speaking of that apple pie smell...Jacob refocused on it and subtly inhaled. Oh yeah, that was a real nice scent. His mind supplied him with a mental image of a young woman with startlingly pretty features and intense hazel eyes. His heart skipped a beat and the longing he felt increased.

This must be what imprinting felt like.

Realization hit him like a ton of bricks and he almost gasped. His mind floundered for several moments, unable to come to grips with this new development in his already supremely complicated life. His lungs constricted in his chest and he thought he was going to have a full blown panic attack until he caught another whiff of that apple pie scent. Calm settled over him like a warm blanket and he inhaled one more time, holding his breath, and the scent, inside his lungs for several heartbeats. Jacob relaxed and his thoughts cleared.

"_Ahem_, I prefer the term sexual deviant."

What the hell? That voice _definitely_ did not belong to his Apple Pie Girl, as he so dubbed the young woman he had imprinted on. It wasn't like he could call her by her name, he didn't even know it after all. Wow, that was pretty horrible now that he thought about it. He was distracted from his erratic thoughts, by an exasperated sigh.

"Why me?"

Ah, he'd recognize that smoky voice anywhere. Looks like his nose was right and Apple Pie Girl was in whatever room he apparently was in. And judging by her voice, she was close. Like within touching distance close. Jacob quickly put those thoughts from his mind and slowly forced his tired eyes open.

Instantly, his gaze turned to the left where Apple Pie Girl's voice had originated from. There she was, standing right beside the bed with her back turned, her head tilted back and her gaze focused imploringly on the ceiling as if it had all the answers.

He said the first thing that popped into his head. "Talking to your dog again?"

He wanted to smack himself for saying something so stupid. Of course she wasn't talking to her dog. Dogs couldn't talk and she'd clearly been talking to guy. Though, now that he took a second to look around, he noticed a distinct lack of people other than himself and Apple Pie Girl in the room. Maybe he'd imagined it? Nah, he clearly remembered a man saying something about being a sexual deviant. He felt a growl build up in his chest at the thought of some random guy who claimed to be a sexual deviant being anywhere near _his_ Apple Pie Girl, but he quickly squashed it.

All thoughts left his head when Apple Pie Girl's head whipped around so fast, for a moment he was concerned she'd break her own neck, a squeak emitting from her plump mouth. Wide eyes the color of sunlit oak leaves stared at him and held him captive. He couldn't have looked away even if he wanted to. And, if he was being honest with himself, he didn't really want to.

Suddenly, the girl tripped over nothing and fell back, landing on her butt with a loud thump. Concern flooding his mind, Jacob sat up quickly and nearly fell back down. His body shrieked in protest and throbbed with all the wrathful pain of overworked muscles. Okay, ow. So that's where his soreness had gone. Good thing it was back, it wasn't like he had missed it or anything.

He cautiously leaned over the side of the bed and peered down at Apple Pie Girl worriedly. She looked annoyed and was glaring at the floor accusingly. Furrowing his brows, he asked if she was okay.

Her head jerked up and she stared at him, her mouth opening and closing several times, but no sound came out. She snapped her mouth shut with a soft click, blinked owlishly at him then pointed at the ceiling.

"My dad."

Er, okay. What about her dad? Is he in the ceiling or the floor above them, if there was another floor? He watched a blush spread across her cheeks then slowly looked up at the ceiling in contemplation. After a few seconds he looked back at her and raised his brows in bemusement and slight humor.

"Oh-kay?"

Her blush deepened and a stricken expression appeared on her face, "I mean, I was, you know, talking to him. Not my dog." She giggled nervously, her hazel eyes looking anywhere but at him as she rambled, "Not that I talk to my dog, because that would be, you know, totally crazy. And I'm not...Crazy that is."

She stopped rambling and coughed into her fist awkwardly. Jacob's eyebrows rose higher on his forehead and he nodded slowly, trying to keep the smile off his face. It was cute, the way she rambled like that. She made almost no sense, but it was cute. So was the blush that had spread down to her neck and upper chest. Speaking of which, _wow_. Definitely didn't make them like that in La Push... His own blush flooded his face and he quickly jerked his eyes back up to her face, thanking God that his dark skin hid the redness from his face. To take his mind of her...ahem, _assets_, he focused on her face, scrutinizing it intently.

She really was beautiful. There were faint tan lines at the corners of her eyes, as if she spent time in the sun and ended up squinting a lot. There were also faint freckles sprinkled across the bridge of her nose and each cheekbone, and a beauty mark near her right temple.

She bit her lip, drawing his gaze to her mouth. There was small scar at on the left corner of her lower lip that he hadn't noticed before. Interesting. He was curious where she got it and how she'd broken her nose. He noticed that she was no longer looking at him and how she was trying to not fidget the longer the silence between them continued. Crap, he made her uncomfortable with his staring. And he was still doing it. Double crap.

Jacob forced himself to look away and instead gaze around the room he was in. It was bigger than his room back home and better furnished. Actually, it kind of reminded him of a bed and breakfast his mother had forced the family to go to before she died. He quickly shut thoughts of his mother out of his mind and instead focused on the room. Probably with more intensity than was needed, but whatever.

The walls were cream colored, the carpet a deep brown and thick looking. There was a dresser pressed against the wall to his left, a nightstand directly to his right with a reading lamp, a round table with two chairs was directly across from the dresser, and a short wardrobe was pressed against the wall in the corner opposite to the bed and nightstand. All of it looked to be made of oak wood that had been stained dark.

Sitting up a little more, Jacob leaned against the headboard and took in the bed, which was way bigger than his own back home. That one could barely fit him, but he fit in this one rather nicely. This one was monster, most likely a queen and about as thick as two of his own mattress, resting on on a wooden four poster bed frame with a canopy. If he had money, he'd bet that the wood was oak too. The room was fancier than he was used to, but it wasn't obnoxious. It was actually kind of homey, in a old, straight out of the British country-side kind of way.

He briefly glanced towards ensuite bathroom, where, what he assumed was Apple Pie Girl's dog was lying contentedly on the brown tile. His brows furrowed briefly as he stared at the animal. That wasn't a dog, that was fluffy horse. Not that he had any room to talk about being the size of a horse, but seriously, it was _huge_.

Shaking his head, Jacob looked back at Apple Pie Girl and asked the question that had been nagging at him from the very back of his mind since he woke up the second time. "Where am I?"

She glanced at him and jumped slightly, as if surprised to find him staring at her. She peered at him intently, her lips parting slightly as she took shallow breaths, and her eyes roved over his face.

Jacob shifted slightly against the headboard, male pride surging through him at the look of female appreciation on her face, and he puffed out his chest. He knew he was posturing and part of him scoffed at his ridiculous and Paul-like behavior, but his male ego decided to tell that part of his mind to shove it. Hell with the way she was looking at him, he almost thought it was a good thing that he was naked under the blankets.

While she was busy looking him over, he decided to do the same. Fair was fair after all. And damn, the baggy sweatshirt and sweatpants he first saw her in really did not do her figure any justice. Honestly neither did the jeans and oversized shirt she was currently wearing. And even though she was still sitting on the floor, it was obvious to Jacob that she was fuller figured than most girls nowadays, with a large chest that narrowed slightly at the waist before swelling into a set of wide hips attached to thick, jean-clad thighs. He let his eyes trail upwards back towards her hazel orbs, meeting them head on and holding them. She unconsciously licked her lips and he focused on the motion. Oh yeah, he was really, really grateful for the blankets pooling around his waist right at this moment.

He was distracted from his heated stare down with Apple Pie Girl-he really needed to learn her name- by a deep bark that sounded like quiet thunder and the sudden weight of the huge monster of a dog landing on his lower legs. Jacob grunted in surprise, jerking his head towards the dog and scowling at it. Damn dog totally ruined the moment. Didn't matter that nothing more than staring probably would have happened, eye sex was way better than having a hundred and something pound dog lying across his legs.

Jacob stopped giving the fluffy white canine the evil eye when he saw Apple Pie Girl quickly getting to her feet. He watched her as she pointed at the ground beside her and addressed the dog sternly.

"Down, Sprite."

The dog, Sprite apparently, whined, slithered off the bed, shuffled towards Apple Pie Girl, and sat at her feet, gazing up at her adoringly. She put her hand on the beast's large head and looked at a point somewhere over his shoulder. Jacob resisted the urge to turn around to see what exactly she was looking at and instead focused on her face as she opened her mouth to speak.

"Sorry about that. Um, right, where are you?" She apologized and cleared her throat loudly. Her voice abruptly shifted and became distantly polite even as she stuttered, "You are-you are currently residing in guest room fourteen of the Mystic Inn, located ten miles outside of the town of White Oak, in Montana."

Montana, huh? Wow, he was two states away from La Push, Washington. Explained why he could hear any of the pack. He felt the corner of his mouth twitch when Apple Pie Girl ducked her head and scratched the back of her neck while shuffling nervously in place.

"I, uh," She stuttered awkwardly, "I found you earlier this morning in the backyard. You were unconscious and erm, naked..."

_Trust me, hon I am fully aware of that._ Jacob thought sardonically as she twirled around, hurried towards the dresser and snatched up a stack of clothes off the top then she trotted back over to the bed. She did all that without looking at him once. Damn.

"Here," Apple Pie Girl thrust the clothes at him without meeting his eyes, no matter how hard he tried to catch her gaze, "These were my dad's. They should fit alright. Maybe. I mean, he was a big guy like you, so yeah..."

She trailed off awkwardly and shifted from foot-to-foot. He reached out and took the clothes from her hands, purposefully brushing his fingers against her and letting them linger there. "Thanks."

She yanked her hands away from as if they'd caught on fire and she shoved them into the back pockets of her jeans. Jacob briefly looked toward them wistfully before looking at her face again, mentally sighing in relief when it appeared that she hadn't noticed him ogling her. He chuckled lowly at the expression on her face and half smiled at the blush that reappeared on her face. Jacob really, really liked it when she blushed.

"Um, right, so, uh, welcome to Mystic Inn." Apple Pie Girl stated hurriedly and looked frantically around the room. Focusing on something behind him, she gestured towards the bathroom with one hand, "Bathroom's through that door there. Obviously..." She tucked her hand back into her back pocket, rocked back on her heels, and sucked her bottom lip into her mouth before speaking again, "So, yeah, lunch is served at twelve in the dining room on the first floor if you're hungry..."

_Starving, but I don't think they have what I want on the menu._ Jacob mused, his half smile widening slightly at the thought. He had clearly spent too much time inside Paul's head.

"Right, okay." Apple Pie Girl muttered and she pointed towards the door, "I'm just gonna, you know, go...Yeah."

She was leaving. Irrational panic gripped him as she shuffled towards the bedroom door with her head bowed, that damn dog shambling after her faithfully. Thinking quickly, Jacob tried to find a way to keep her in the room, if for only a few more minutes.

Her hand was just about to turn the doorknob when he blurted out the first thing that popped into his head.

"Wait!"

She paused and he heard her exhale slowly before she turned to face him, an expression of forced politeness on her pretty face.

"Yes?"

An imaginary light bulb dinged above his head and he flashed another half smile at her, "What's your name?"

She twitched and stared at him in disbelief. The silence stretched on for a few seconds and Jacob worried that she would just leave without saying anything, but she proved him wrong when she cocked one wide hip out and propped her fist on it.

"Why do you want to know?"

Ooh, suddenly we've got some attitude going on. He liked that. Jacob grinned widely at her.

"I think I deserve to know the name of my rescuer, don't you?" He asked, his grin widening at the flabbergasted look she gave him. Oh yeah, sweetheart, trying dodging the question now.

She crossed her arms and shifted from foot to foot restlessly for a few moments then huffed. Reluctantly, she spoke.

"Mo Tanner."

Mo Tanner. So much better than Apple Pie Girl. He smiled happily at her and gave her his name. "I'm Jacob. Jacob Black. It's nice to meet you, Mo."

_You have no idea how nice either_.

* * *

Mo grumbled under her breath as she trudged down the main staircase to the first floor, her arms crossed tightly over her chest and a sour expression on her face. Pfft, nice to meet you, indeed. She looked down at the fluffy beast plodding down the stairs beside her.

"He's trouble, Sprite, I just know it. I should have just left him in the backyard and called the cops."

Sprite looked up at her adoringly, pink tongue lolling out his mouth as usual. Mo shook her head at him and, after stopping on second floor landing, wagged a finger at him. "No, we do not like the weird streaker, Sprite. Get that idea out of your head."

"I don't know, darling, you seemed to like him plenty from what I saw."

Mo groaned and started walking down the stairs again as Raphael phased into sight on her other side, easily keeping in step with her. She looked towards the ceiling and appealed to the universe and whatever deity bothered to listen to her. "Why me? What did I do in a past life to earn torture via drama queen poltergeist?"

He ignored her and continued as if she hadn't spoke. "In fact, judging from the expression on your face when you looked at him, you were one smile away from jumping his bones and taking him for a test drive. Not that I blame you, he is one fine specimen of manliness."

"I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about." Mo denied instantly, deciding to ignore the way her face was doing it's best to impersonate a ripe tomato. "What you saw on my face was abject horror at talking to a guy I saw naked, while he was _still _naked. Normal people find situations such as those mortifying."

Raphael clucked his tongue and shook his head disapprovingly, "Honey, denial isn't just a river in Egypt, you know."

"If you keep talking, I'll let Fezzik loose in the attic to pee all over it."

The attic was where he'd overdosed decades ago. He was very attached to it. Anything that happened in the attic, he could feel. Like when a ten year old accidently drops an oil lamp when she's were looking for her great-grandfather's grimoire. He'd tripped her and left dead things in her bed for a week after that.

"Rude much? No wonder you've never had a boyfriend." The gay poltergeist sniffed and floated away, phasing through the ceiling.

"'No wonder you've never had a boyfriend.'" Mo mocked in a horrible imitation of Raphael's silky voice. She glanced down at Sprite, "He's lying. I've had a boyfriend. Sort of."

Granted a relationship that ended after two days and only began because Davis Littleton lost a bet with his buddies, probably didn't count as having an actual boyfriend. Stupid Raphael. She really should have had her mother exorcise the jerk back when he used to make her dolls have orgies when she was eight.

Shuddering, Mo jumped the last two stairs and ambled through the empty dining room, Mr. Roark most likely having gone fishing, towards the kitchen. She pushed the swinging door open and held it, allowing Sprite to tramp into the large room before her. She let the door swing shut behind her, walked over to the large island in the middle of the room, and hopped onto one of the barstools. Sprite flopped down on his side on Mo's left, dropping off into a doze almost instantly. She folded her arms on the wooden top and rested her head on them, hiding her face from view.

"I take it our guest is awake?" Mary-Elizabeth asked airly, a wooden spoon as long as Mo's forearm with a bowl the size of her palm in her hand. She dipped the spoon into a large, bubbling copper pot and stirred counterclockwise exactly fifteen times.

"His name is Jacob Black and I should have called the cops when I found him this morning."

"What a lovely name. Why would have called the police on him, dearheart?" The older witch murmured and she glanced over her shoulder at her daughter then looked back to the pot. Still stirring with one hand, she picked up a small copper spoon and dipped it into the bubbling liquid, bringing it to her lips for a taste test. Humming slightly, she placed the spoon down and walked over to her dried herb rack, the wooden spoon stirring itself.

Mo lifted her head, rested her chin on her arms, and blew a strand of hair out of her face. "Well for one, he was naked when I found him. That's indecent exposure right there, which is illegal. And two, he's trouble. I can sense it. Sprite can to. Can't you boy?" She leaned back to look at the dog with raised brows.

Sprite sneezed, lifted his head, and panted up at her happily. Mo took a moment to glare at her familiar. Traitor.

Mary-Elizabeth returned to the pot on the stove and sprinkled a pinch of rosemary into the liquid. She addressed the wooden spun still stirring itself, "Clockwise, please, for twenty minutes."

The spoon instantly changed direction and Mary-Elizabeth walked gracefully towards the island to stand directly opposite of her daughter. She rested her forearms against the time-worn wooden top and leaned forward, "What makes you think he's trouble?"

"He makes my Spidey senses tingle." Mo deadpanned.

Her mother snorted in a most unladylike way and waved a dismissive hand, "I get that part, dove. Please elaborate_ why_ he makes your...Spinny senses tingle."

Mo sighed, "Spidey senses, Ma. It's _Spidey_ senses. And do you even have to ask? He was naked and unconscious in our backyard looking like he'd spent a week running through the woods in the buff. That has got to tell you something ain't right with him. He could be a _criminal_ for Gods' sake."

"Hmm, perhaps." Mary-Elizabeth mused and she tapped her chin thoughtfully, "But I don't think so. Most criminals don't run through the woods naked, dear."

"Well, how about a runaway then?" Mo suggested then made an irritated noise and threw her hands in the air, "You know what, it doesn't matter. He's trouble. T-R-O-U-B-L-E. Trouble."

"Double, double, toil, and trouble." Mary-Elizabeth murmured humorously.

Mo made a disgusted sound and jumped off the barstool, sliding it forcefully back into place. "Fine go ahead and make a joke out of this, but if we wake up one morning as ghosts because he turned out to be a crazy axe murder, don't come crying to me." She stomped towards the back door and grabbed a pair of work boots resting on the mat by the door. "I'm going to start my chores."

"Lunch will be ready in an hour and a half." Mary-Elizabeth called out to her daughter and she turned back to the stew she was preparing. She chuckled lightly under her breath and shook her head when Mo slammed the door dramatically behind her and Sprite. The witch looked up at the ceiling with a soft smile, "That's _your_ side of the family shining through, love."

* * *

Her mother's airy laughter reached her ears as she approached the backdoor almost two hours later, Sprite trotting at her heels, and she frowned slightly. Mo's frown turned into a scowl when deep and, unfortunately, familiar laughter joined her mother's. She'd know that wolf laugh anywhere, even after only hearing it once. Of course her mother just _had_ to fraternize with the enemy. Typical.

After stomping up the wooden steps loudly to make her dissatisfied presence known, Mo dropped down on the top step and proceeded to remove her muddy and soaked work boots from her feet, Sprite flopping down on the porch on her right. Next she worked her soggy socks off and tossed them over the porch rail to dry in the sun. Wiggling her bare toes, she flopped down on her back, ignoring the way her t-shirt squelched and the uncomfortable feeling of wet denim rubbing abrasively against her waist. The freaking water pixies that lived in the small lake about fifteen minutes from the Inn had decided she need to take swim with them. Bloody water imps, they enjoyed screwing with her _waaaay _too much.

"Is that you, dove?" Her mother called out as she opened the backdoor, pausing when she saw her daughter sprawled out on the porch, her feet hanging over the steps. She stepped out onto the porch and peered down at her wet daughter with curious concern. "What happened to you, dear?"

Mo tilted her head back and caught sight of naked guy-Jacob Black, she corrected herself, looming behind her mother like a russet skinned behemoth. Flicking her eyes away from his strangely concerned gaze, Mo fixed her mother with a deadpanned expression, "I fell into the lake."

Mary-Elizabeth covered her mouth with her hand, trying to hide the smile that wanted to stretch her mouth. She failed miserably and Mo gave her a flat look. With laughter in her voice, Mary-Elizabeth spoke again, "Yes, I can see that. I'll just go fetch you a towel then shall I?"

Mo grunted and stopped craning her neck, focusing on the wooden awning above her head while her mother disappeared back into the house. For a moment, she almost thought that the guy-Jacob, her mind unhelpfully supplied, had left. At least until the wooden board beside her head creaked and a massive shape sat down on her left, his long legs, clad in a pair of her father's worn jeans, stretched out across the porch steps. Not that she was paying attention to him or anything. Not at all.

"Soo..." He drawled, the slight awkwardness in his tone causing Mo to glance at him from the corner of her eye. "You fell in the lake?"

"Nope, water sprites decided to pull me in." She stated seriously and with complete honesty.

"Right, stupid question." He chuckled under his breath, the sound sending warm shivers down Mo's spin. Freaking hormones. She wasn't in high school anymore, she shouldn't have to be dealing with this crap anymore.

Mo watched as he pulled his legs up so his feet were resting on the second step then he rested his elbows on his thighs, leaning forward slightly. His shoulders strained the material of her dad's shirt and the muscles on his back rippled clearly through the material. He'd apparently foregone wearing the flannel left for him. She couldn't decide if that was a bad thing or not. He shifted again, muscles straining against the thin material of the shirt. Yeah, no, it was definitely a bad thing.

Mo rubbed the back of her hand against her mouth, pretending to wipe away some nonexistent water, but was actually surreptitiously making sure she wasn't drooling. She had some dignity after all.

"So..."

Did he start all his sentences with that word or something?

"You've lived here all your life?"

Mo gave him a weird look. Where exactly was he going with this? She answered slowly, "Yeah."

"That's cool." He cleared his throat, "Ever think about leaving?"

Woah, what? What kind of question was that? Mo sat up and scooted stealthily away from him, eyeing him warily. "Is that your weird, roundabout way of saying you're playing on kidnapping me?" She asked suspiciously, "Because if it is, I have to warn you, I'm a black belt."

Not really. At least not in any _human_ martial arts. But he didn't need to know that, now did he? No, no he did not.

"What? No! Oh, God, no. I'm-I'm not planning on kidnapping you or anything." He hurriedly told her. He laughed nervously and rubbed the back of his neck, "That, uh, that came out wrong, huh?"

Mo was pretty sure that that was exactly what a potential kidnapper would say, just to lull his victim into a false sense of security. Then he would strike and the poor, naive, hapless idiot-woman would never know what hit her. Well, he was just plumb out of luck, because that wouldn't work on her. No siree, it would not. It didn't matter that his muscles made Hercules look like a twig or that his smile would cause a swooning epidemic if he unleashed it on the female population. She refused to let something as trivial as a pair of velvet brown eyes and a nice smile turn her into a quivering mess of hormones. She would not become like one of those idiot damsels in her mother's trashy romance novels, dammit!

Shaking herself out of her own mental rant, Mo opened her mouth to retort as she refocused her gaze on Jacob. The only sound that came out of her mouth was a strangled squeak, that sounded remarkably similar to a dying squirrel. He was staring at her. Not only that, he was staring at her with an expression so earnest and hopeful, all he need was some Sarah McLachlan music and he could be in his own charity commercial.

_Look away! Look away dammit!_ The sensible part of her mind screeched as she continued to ogle him while the dumb and reckless part of her mind screamed, _Don't look away! In fact lean closer! Lean closer!_

"Here's a towel, do-Oh, am I interrupting?"

Mo jerked her head towards her mother whiplash fast and squawked, "No!" Her voice cracked and she winced, praying that no one noticed. No such luck, judging by the amused looks on both her mother's and Jacob's face.

"I see." Mary-Elizabeth replied with a small, knowing smile and she held a plush pastel pink towel out to her daughter. "Here you go, dearheart."

Mo cleared her throat and spoke, her tone as even as she could possibly make it. "Thanks, Ma." She stood and rubbed vigorously at her damp hair with the towel before wrapping it around her body. Lifting her chin, she walked into the Inn with as much dignity as she could muster. Which wasn't much, considering she was still dripping wet and her face was doing its level best to impersonate a cherry.

"She's such a shy girl, my daughter. She's single you know." Mo heard her mother say to Jacob and she hurried up the servant's stairs to avoid hearing his reply, her face burning even hotter in mortified embarrassment. Gah, she couldn't believe that woman sometimes.

* * *

**Author's Note: Whelp, here's the second chapter! I'll probably start most of the chapters with Jacob's POV, going through what happened in the last chapter from his perspective. Then again, I might not, it depends. Anyhooties, I wrote Jacob a little differently than I did in **_**Always Sunny**_**, so I hope he isn't OOC and that everyone enjoyed this chapter! I was actually a little surprise, but very-very happy, at the reaction to the first chapter, you guys are awesome!**

**Terms to Know:  
_Water Pixies:_ **Mischievous, but mostly harmless, fae that live in any kind of body of water. About two to two and a half feet tall with willowy builds, they have large heads with even bigger fish like eyes in various shades of blue and green and no nose. Their skin tends to mimic the color of the water they reside in, making them virtually undetectable to unaware humans. Hair often looks like algae. The have seven fingers and four toes with a thin membranous webbing between them. Two rows of serrated fish teeth hidden inside a lipless mouth. Their preferred diet is fish, frogs, bugs, small birds, lizards, and the occasional small animal that wanders to close to the water. They have two sets of gills, one pair on either side of their necks and the other on either side of their ribs, which are used to breath when they are sleeping. Like most pixies, Water Pixies are extremely mischievous, and enjoy splashing passersby, occasionally pulling them into the water for a swim, or cutting a fisherman's line. They live in matriarchal colonies anywhere from 5 to 20 pixies, can change their sex like certain frog species if it is necessary and reproduction is similar to that of a seahorse, with the males carrying the offspring. They love shiny things and tend to collect objects that strike their fancy the way a magpie does. The colony that lives in the lake near the Mystic Inn has an unholy love for chocolate, specifically Snickers and Almond Joys.

**Special THANKS to everyone that faved and/or alerted! You guys are awesome-sauce!**

**SPECIAL MENTIONS!**

**Break This Spell666: **Haha, yeah no bet this time. Twilight was the only fanfiction I could think of to use this concept on. I'm sure there are others, but it was the first one that popped into my head so I rolled with it. I'm glad you liked the first chapter and Mo herself, I actually think I like her better than Sunny. Ah, heh, the 'Nasal hemorrhage'/anime character thing was not a reference to Black Butler specifically. I was using it as generalization, since in most animes I've seen whenever a hot person shows up either naked or in a particularly revealing outfit, someone always gets a very dramatic nosebleed (i.e. Iruka when Naruto uses his sexy jutsu). I thought I was being witty. Anyhooties, I hope you like this chapter!

**Rasheedah2907: **Thanks, I'm glad you liked the first chapter! I hope you like the second one too!

**LovingMeLovingYou: **Thanks! I hope it continues to meet your expectations as it progresses. Haha, I'm glad you like Raphael, he one of my favorite characters in this story. Anyhooties, I hope you like this chapter!

**Geneu: **Yeah that's what I was pretty much thinking of doing, except for maybe some much, much later chapters. But for the most part, it's just gonna be Jacob in the little world I created to fit into the Twilight universe. Anyhooties, I hope you like this chapter!

**Mira SeverusSirius Black-Snape: **Raphael is the best, I'd totally want a friend like him. Anyhooties, I hope you like this chapter!

**Yappycherub: **Thanks, I'm glad you think I'm a good writer! I hope you like this chapter!

**Shayna kasdan: **Thanks, I'm glad you like the story so far! I hope you like this chapter too!

**GigglingFangirl: **Awesome, I'm glad you liked the first chapter! I hope you like the second one too!

**zZhell-butterflyZz: **Thanks, I hope you like this chapter!


End file.
